The Tempest, Act 2, Scene 1

Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause, So have we all, of joy; for our escape Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe Is common; every day, some sailor’s wife, The masters of some merchant and the merchant, Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle, I mean our preservation, few in millions Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh Our sorrow with our comfort.

Please, sir, cheer up. You have reason to be glad, and so do all of us, because our escape is far greater than our loss. Our share of sorrow is ordinary; every day some sailor's wife, the officers of some merchant ship and the merchant himself have exactly our subject of grief. But as for the miracle — I mean our survival — only a few in millions can tell such a story as ours. So, good sir, weigh our sorrow against our comfort sensibly.

Prithee, peace.

Please, be quiet.

He receives comfort like cold porridge.

He takes comfort the way he'd take cold porridge.

The visitor will not give him o’er so.

The visitor of the sick won't drop him that easily.

Look, he’s winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike.

Look, he's winding up the clock of his cleverness; in a moment it will strike.

Sir,—

Sir—

One: tell.

One. Keep count.

When every grief is entertain’d that’s offer’d, Comes to the entertainer—

When a man welcomes in every grief that's offered to him, what comes to the one who welcomes them is—

A dollar.

A dollar.

Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken truer than you purposed.

Dolour does come to him, that's right: you've spoken more truly than you intended.

You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.

And you've understood it more wisely than I meant you to.

Therefore, my lord,—

Therefore, my lord—

Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!

Good heavens, what a waster he is with his tongue!

I prithee, spare.

Please, spare me.

Well, I have done: but yet—

All right, I've finished. But still—

He will be talking.

He insists on talking.

Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow?

Which of them, he or Adrian, will start crowing first? Let's have a good bet on it.

The old cock.

The old rooster.

The cockerel.

The young one.

Done. The wager?

Agreed. What's the bet?

A laughter.

A laugh.

A match!

It's a deal!

Though this island seem to be desert,—

Although this island seems to be a desert—

Ha, ha, ha!

Ha, ha, ha!

So. You’re paid.

There. You're paid.

Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,—

Uninhabitable, and almost impossible to reach—

Yet—

Yet—

Yet—

Yet—

He could not miss ’t.

He couldn't have failed to say it.

It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.

It must certainly have a fine, mild and delicate climate.

Temperance was a delicate wench.

Temperance was a delicate girl.

Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.

Yes, and a crafty one, just as he so learnedly said.

The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.

The air breathes on us here very sweetly.

As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.

As if it had lungs — and rotten ones at that.

Or, as ’twere perfum’d by a fen.

Or as if it were perfumed by a swamp.

Here is everything advantageous to life.

Here is everything that helps life along.

True; save means to live.

True — except the means of living.

Of that there’s none, or little.

Of that there's none, or very little.

How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!

How rich and healthy the grass looks! How green!

The ground indeed is tawny.

The ground is actually brown.

With an eye of green in’t.

With a tinge of green in it.

He misses not much.

He doesn't miss much.

No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.

No; he only gets the truth completely wrong.

But the rarity of it is,—which is indeed almost beyond credit,—

But the remarkable thing about it — which is really almost unbelievable—

As many vouch’d rarities are.

As plenty of much-sworn-to marvels are.

That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained with salt water.

—is that our clothes, though they were soaked in the sea, still keep their freshness and their shine; they look newly dyed rather than stained with salt water.

If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say he lies?

If just one of his pockets could talk, wouldn't it say he's lying?

Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report.

Yes, or else pocket his account very dishonestly.

Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the King’s fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis.

It seems to me our clothes are as fresh now as when we first put them on in Africa, at the marriage of the King's lovely daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis.

’Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

It was a lovely marriage, and we prosper so well on our voyage home.

Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their Queen.

Tunis was never blessed before with such a perfect model of a queen.

Not since widow Dido’s time.

Not since widow Dido's time.

Widow! a pox o’ that! How came that widow in? Widow Dido!

Widow! Curse that word! How did that widow get in? Widow Dido!

What if he had said, widower Aeneas too? Good Lord, how you take it!

What if he had said widower Aeneas as well? Good Lord, how worked up you get about it!

Widow Dido said you? You make me study of that; she was of Carthage, not of Tunis.

Widow Dido, did you say? You've set me thinking about that; she was from Carthage, not from Tunis.

This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

This Tunis, sir, used to be Carthage.

Carthage?

Carthage?

I assure you, Carthage.

I assure you, Carthage.

His word is more than the miraculous harp.

His word does more than the miraculous harp.

He hath rais’d the wall, and houses too.

He's raised the wall, and the houses too.

What impossible matter will he make easy next?

What impossible thing will he make easy next?

I think he will carry this island home in his pocket, and give it his son for an apple.

I think he'll carry this island home in his pocket and give it to his son as an apple.

And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands.

And then plant its seeds in the sea and grow more islands.

Ay.

Yes.

Why, in good time.

Well, all in good time.

[To Alonso.] Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now Queen.

[To Alonso.] Sir, we were saying that our clothes look as fresh now as when we were in Tunis at the wedding of your daughter, who is now Queen.

And the rarest that e’er came there.

And the finest woman who ever came there.

Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.

Make an exception, please, for widow Dido.

O! widow Dido; ay, widow Dido.

Oh! Widow Dido; yes, widow Dido.

Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.

Isn't my jacket as fresh as the first day I wore it, sir? I mean, in a way.

That sort was well fish’d for.

That "way" was a good catch to fish for.

When I wore it at your daughter’s marriage?

When I wore it at your daughter's wedding?

You cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense. Would I had never Married my daughter there! for, coming thence, My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too, Who is so far from Italy removed, I ne’er again shall see her. O thou mine heir Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish Hath made his meal on thee?

You stuff these words into my ears against the stomach of my mind. I wish I had never married my daughter off there! For, coming back from there, my son is lost; and, by my reckoning, she is too, since she is removed so far from Italy that I shall never see her again. Oh you, my heir of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish has made its meal on you?

Sir, he may live: I saw him beat the surges under him, And ride upon their backs. He trod the water, Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted The surge most swoln that met him. His bold head ’Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oared Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke To th’ shore, that o’er his wave-worn basis bowed, As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt He came alive to land.

Sir, he may be alive. I saw him beat the waves down beneath him and ride on their backs. He trod the water, flinging aside its hostility, and pushed his chest against the biggest swell that came at him. He kept his bold head above the quarrelling waves, and rowed himself with his strong arms in vigorous strokes towards the shore, which bent over its wave-worn base as if it were stooping to help him. I have no doubt he reached land alive.

No, no, he’s gone.

No, no, he's gone.

Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss, That would not bless our Europe with your daughter, But rather lose her to an African; Where she, at least, is banish’d from your eye, Who hath cause to wet the grief on ’t.

Sir, you have only yourself to thank for this great loss, since you would not bless our Europe with your daughter, but chose instead to lose her to an African; where she is at least banished from your sight, which has good reason to weep over the grief of it.

Prithee, peace.

Please, be quiet.

You were kneel’d to, and importun’d otherwise By all of us; and the fair soul herself Weigh’d between loathness and obedience at Which end o’ th’ beam should bow. We have lost your son, I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have More widows in them of this business’ making, Than we bring men to comfort them. The fault’s your own.

We all knelt to you and begged you otherwise; and the sweet girl herself weighed between disgust and obedience which end of the scales should go down. We have lost your son, I fear, for ever. Milan and Naples have more widows in them made by this business than we bring back men to comfort them. The fault is your own.

So is the dear’st o’ th’ loss.

And so is the dearest part of the loss.

My lord Sebastian, The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness And time to speak it in. You rub the sore, When you should bring the plaster.

My lord Sebastian, the truth you speak lacks some kindness, and a proper time to speak it in. You rub the sore when you should be putting on the bandage.

Very well.

Very good.

And most chirurgeonly.

And very much like a surgeon.

It is foul weather in us all, good sir, When you are cloudy.

It is foul weather in all of us, good sir, when you are cloudy.

Foul weather?

Foul weather?

Very foul.

Very foul.

Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,—

If I had the settling of this island, my lord—

He’d sow ’t with nettle-seed.

He'd sow it with nettle seed.

Or docks, or mallows.

Or weeds, or mallows.

And were the King on’t, what would I do?

And if I were the King of it, what would I do?

’Scape being drunk for want of wine.

Avoid getting drunk, for lack of wine.

I’ th’ commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things; for no kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate; Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, And use of service, none; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none; No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil; No occupation; all men idle, all; And women too, but innocent and pure; No sovereignty,—

In the commonwealth I would do everything the opposite way. I would allow no kind of trade; no title of magistrate; reading and writing would not be known; no riches, no poverty, no use of servants; no contracts, no inheritance, no boundaries, no marking off of land, no ploughing, no vineyard; no use of metal, grain, wine or oil; no work; all men idle, all of them; and the women too, but innocent and pure; no ruler—

Yet he would be King on’t.

And yet he would be King of it.

The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.

The end of his commonwealth forgets its beginning.

All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour; treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Of it own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people.

Nature should produce everything for everyone in common, without sweat or effort. Treason, felony, sword, pike, knife, gun, or the need for any weapon, I would not have; but nature should bring forth of her own accord all plenty, all abundance, to feed my innocent people.

No marrying ’mong his subjects?

No marrying among his subjects?

None, man; all idle; whores and knaves.

None, man; all idle; whores and scoundrels.

I would with such perfection govern, sir, T’ excel the Golden Age.

I would govern with such perfection, sir, as to outdo the Golden Age.

Save his Majesty!

God save his Majesty!

Long live Gonzalo!

Long live Gonzalo!

And,—do you mark me, sir?

And—are you listening to me, sir?

Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.

Please, no more. You are talking nonsense to me.

I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing.

I quite believe your highness; and I did it to give an opening to these gentlemen, who have such sensitive and quick lungs that they always laugh at nothing.

’Twas you we laughed at.

It was you we were laughing at.

Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you. So you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.

And in this sort of merry joking I am nothing compared to you. So you may carry on, and go on laughing at nothing.

What a blow was there given!

What a hit that was!

An it had not fallen flat-long.

If only it hadn't landed with the flat of the blade.

You are gentlemen of brave mettle. You would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing.

You are gentlemen of bold spirit. You would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would stay in it five weeks without changing.

We would so, and then go a-bat-fowling.

We would indeed, and then go hunting birds by night with her.

Nay, good my lord, be not angry.

Come now, my good lord, don't be angry.

No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy?

No, I promise you; I won't risk my good sense so cheaply. Will you laugh me to sleep? I am feeling very drowsy.

Go sleep, and hear us.

Go to sleep, and listen to us.

What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find They are inclin’d to do so.

What, all asleep so quickly! I wish my eyes would shut up my thoughts along with themselves. I find they are inclined to do it.

Please you, sir, Do not omit the heavy offer of it: It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, It is a comforter.

If you please, sir, don't refuse sleep's drowsy offer. It rarely visits sorrow; when it does, it is a comforter.

We two, my lord, Will guard your person while you take your rest, And watch your safety.

We two, my lord, will guard you while you rest, and keep watch over your safety.

Thank you. Wondrous heavy!

Thank you. Amazingly drowsy!

What a strange drowsiness possesses them!

What a strange sleepiness has taken hold of them!

It is the quality o’ th’ climate.

It's the effect of the climate.

Why Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not Myself dispos’d to sleep.

Then why doesn't it make our eyelids droop? I don't find myself inclined to sleep.

Nor I. My spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent; They dropp’d, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, Worthy Sebastian? O, what might?—No more. And yet methinks I see it in thy face, What thou shouldst be. Th’ occasion speaks thee; and My strong imagination sees a crown Dropping upon thy head.

Nor do I. My spirits are lively. They all went down together, as if by agreement. They dropped as if struck by lightning. What might— worthy Sebastian? Oh, what might—? No more. And yet I think I can see in your face what you ought to be. The chance is calling out to you, and my strong imagination sees a crown dropping onto your head.

What, art thou waking?

What, are you awake?

Do you not hear me speak?

Don't you hear me speaking?

I do; and surely It is a sleepy language, and thou speak’st Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleep With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, And yet so fast asleep.

I do; and certainly it's a sleepy kind of talk, and you're speaking out of your sleep. What was it you said? This is a strange sort of rest, to be asleep with your eyes wide open — standing, talking, moving, and yet so deeply asleep.

Noble Sebastian, Thou let’st thy fortune sleep—die rather; wink’st Whiles thou art waking.

Noble Sebastian, you're letting your fortune sleep — die, rather; you keep your eyes shut while you're awake.

Thou dost snore distinctly: There’s meaning in thy snores.

You snore very clearly: there's meaning in your snores.

I am more serious than my custom; you Must be so too, if heed me; which to do Trebles thee o’er.

I'm more serious than I usually am; you must be serious too, if you'll listen to me — and doing so makes you three times what you are.

Well, I am standing water.

Well, I'm still water.

I’ll teach you how to flow.

I'll teach you how to flow.

Do so: to ebb, Hereditary sloth instructs me.

Do that: as for ebbing, the laziness I inherited teaches me that.

O, If you but knew how you the purpose cherish Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, You more invest it! Ebbing men indeed, Most often, do so near the bottom run By their own fear or sloth.

Oh, if you only knew how much you encourage the plan while you mock it like this! How, in stripping it bare, you dress it up all the more! Ebbing men do indeed very often run so close to the bottom, through their own fear or laziness.

Prithee, say on: The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim A matter from thee, and a birth, indeed Which throes thee much to yield.

Please, go on: the set of your eye and your cheek announce that you have something to say — a birth, in fact, that costs you great labour pains to deliver.

Thus, sir: Although this lord of weak remembrance, this Who shall be of as little memory When he is earth’d, hath here almost persuaded,— For he’s a spirit of persuasion, only Professes to persuade,—the King his son’s alive, ’Tis as impossible that he’s undrown’d As he that sleeps here swims.

It's this, sir: although this lord with the poor memory — this man who will be just as little remembered when he's buried — has nearly persuaded the King here (for he's a spirit of persuasion, he claims skill in nothing but persuading) that his son is alive, it's as impossible that Ferdinand isn't drowned as that the man sleeping here is swimming.

I have no hope That he’s undrown’d.

I have no hope that he isn't drowned.

O, out of that “no hope” What great hope have you! No hope that way is Another way so high a hope, that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, But doubts discovery there. Will you grant with me That Ferdinand is drown’d?

Oh, out of that "no hope" what a great hope you have! No hope in that direction is, in another direction, a hope so high that ambition can't see a hair's breadth beyond it, but doubts it can find anything there. Will you agree with me that Ferdinand is drowned?

He’s gone.

He's gone.

Then tell me, Who’s the next heir of Naples?

Then tell me, who is the next heir to Naples?

Claribel.

Claribel.

She that is Queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man’s life; she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post— The Man i’ th’ Moon’s too slow—till newborn chins Be rough and razorable; she that from whom We all were sea-swallow’d, though some cast again, And by that destiny, to perform an act Whereof what’s past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge.

She who is Queen of Tunis; she who lives ten leagues farther off than a man's whole life could travel; she who can get no news from Naples — unless the sun were the messenger, since the Man in the Moon is too slow — until newborn babies' chins are rough enough to shave; she from whose wedding we were all swallowed by the sea, though some of us were thrown up again, and by that destiny were meant to perform an act of which everything past is only the prologue, and what is to come is yours and mine to carry out.

What stuff is this! How say you? ’Tis true, my brother’s daughter’s Queen of Tunis; So is she heir of Naples; ’twixt which regions There is some space.

What nonsense is this! What are you saying? It's true, my brother's daughter is Queen of Tunis; and she is heir to Naples; and between those two countries there's a certain distance.

A space whose ev’ry cubit Seems to cry out “How shall that Claribel Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake.” Say this were death That now hath seiz’d them; why, they were no worse Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate As amply and unnecessarily As this Gonzalo. I myself could make A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore The mind that I do! What a sleep were this For your advancement! Do you understand me?

A distance every foot of which seems to cry out, "How is that Claribel going to measure us back to Naples? Let her stay in Tunis, and let Sebastian wake up." Suppose this were death that has now taken hold of them; well, they'd be no worse off than they are now. There are men who can rule Naples as well as the one who's sleeping; lords who can chatter as fully and as pointlessly as this Gonzalo. I could make a crow talk as profoundly myself. If only you had the mind I have! What an opportunity this sleep would be for your advancement! Do you understand me?

Methinks I do.

I think I do.

And how does your content Tender your own good fortune?

And how does your willingness respond to your own good fortune?

I remember You did supplant your brother Prospero.

I remember that you pushed your brother Prospero out of his place.

True. And look how well my garments sit upon me; Much feater than before; my brother’s servants Were then my fellows; now they are my men.

True. And look how well my clothes fit me; much more neatly than before. My brother's servants were then my equals; now they are my men.

But, for your conscience.

But what about your conscience?

Ay, sir; where lies that? If ’twere a kibe, ’Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences That stand ’twixt me and Milan, candied be they And melt ere they molest! Here lies your brother, No better than the earth he lies upon, If he were that which now he’s like, that’s dead; Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it, Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus, To the perpetual wink for aye might put This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest, They’ll take suggestion as a cat laps milk. They’ll tell the clock to any business that We say befits the hour.

Yes, sir; where is that? If it were a chilblain, it would make me wear my slipper; but I feel no such god in my breast. Twenty consciences standing between me and Milan — let them be sugared over and melt away before they trouble me! Here lies your brother, no better than the earth he's lying on, if he were what he now looks like, that is, dead; and I, with this obedient blade, three inches of it, can put him to bed for ever; while you, doing the same, could shut this ancient scrap of a man, this Sir Prudence, into the everlasting sleep, so he couldn't scold us for our course. As for all the others, they'll swallow a hint as a cat laps milk. They'll say the hour is whatever we say the hour suits.

Thy case, dear friend, Shall be my precedent: as thou got’st Milan, I’ll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest, And I the King shall love thee.

Your case, dear friend, will be my model: as you got Milan, I'll get Naples. Draw your sword: one blow will free you from the tribute you pay, and I, as King, will love you for it.

Draw together, And when I rear my hand, do you the like, To fall it on Gonzalo.

Let's draw together, and when I lift my hand, you do the same, to bring it down on Gonzalo.

O, but one word.

Oh, just one word.

My master through his art foresees the danger That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth— For else his project dies—to keep them living.

My master, through his magic, sees in advance the danger that you, his friend, are in; and he sends me out — for otherwise his plan dies — to keep them alive.

While you here do snoring lie, Open-ey’d conspiracy His time doth take. If of life you keep a care, Shake off slumber, and beware. Awake! awake!

While you lie here snoring, wide-awake conspiracy is seizing its moment. If you care about your life, shake off sleep and watch out. Wake up! Wake up!

Then let us both be sudden.

Then let us both be quick about it.

Now, good angels Preserve the King!

Now, good angels protect the King!

Why, how now! Ho, awake! Why are you drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking?

What's going on! Hey, wake up! Why are your swords drawn? Why these terrible looks on your faces?

What’s the matter?

What's the matter?

Whiles we stood here securing your repose, Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like bulls, or rather lions; did ’t not wake you? It struck mine ear most terribly.

While we stood here guarding your rest, just now we heard a hollow blast of bellowing like bulls, or more like lions; didn't it wake you? It hit my ear most horribly.

I heard nothing.

I heard nothing.

O! ’twas a din to fright a monster’s ear, To make an earthquake. Sure, it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions.

Oh! It was a racket to frighten a monster's ear, to cause an earthquake. Surely it was the roar of a whole herd of lions.

Heard you this, Gonzalo?

Did you hear this, Gonzalo?

Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me. I shak’d you, sir, and cried; as mine eyes open’d, I saw their weapons drawn:—there was a noise, That’s verily. ’Tis best we stand upon our guard, Or that we quit this place: let’s draw our weapons.

On my honour, sir, I heard a humming, and a strange one too, which woke me up. I shook you, sir, and shouted; as my eyes opened, I saw their weapons drawn — there was a noise, that's certain. It's best we stay on our guard, or else leave this place: let's draw our weapons.

Lead off this ground, and let’s make further search For my poor son.

Lead us off this ground, and let's search further for my poor son.

Heavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure, i’ th’ island.

May heaven keep him safe from these beasts! For he is surely on the island.

Lead away.

Lead the way.

Prospero my lord shall know what I have done: So, King, go safely on to seek thy son.

Prospero my lord will hear what I have done: so, King, go on safely to look for your son.